


Slice of Life

by scribblepen



Category: Night at the Museum (Movies)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, first fic lol, so it'll probably suck
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-29
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-04-28 19:50:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5103635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblepen/pseuds/scribblepen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's basically a freshmen AU about NATM, but has chapters focusing on different characters, hence the title. It mainly focuses on Jed on Oct though.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Twelve-year old laugh

**Author's Note:**

> This idea was put together really quickly, based off a drawing I did some time ago that I haven't shared, so if there are errors, you're not bothering me if you point them out.  
> Anyway, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “You Romans and your melodrama.” Jedediah shook his head.  
> “No, no. Not melodrama.” Octavius corrected. “Just drama.”  
> “Suuuure…” Jedediah replied in such a way that Octavius could just hear the italics. “Anything with you is melodramatic.”

 

_"Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can." Arthur Ashe_

 

* * *

 

“Nice skirt.” Octavius stopped walking and turned around to face the person who called that out.

Ugh, it was Jedediah.

“Sorry, I didn’t notice you,” Octavius replied, spitefully. 

“That’s unsual.” Jedediah replied. “I’m pretty noticeable." 

"Oh right!” Octavius exclaimed, making it sound as fake as possible. “What, with that huge ten gallon hat you strut around with? How could anyone not notice you?" 

Jedediah chuckled. Clearly Octavius wasn’t successful in making him annoyed. "Right.” Jedediah smirked. “What’re you wearin’ that skirt for?" 

Octavius rolled his eyes. "It’s not a skirt.”

“Yeah?” Jedediah raised a brow.

“Yeah. It’s… the bottom part of a toga.” Octavius muttered the last part quietly.

“So a skirt.” Jedediah crossed his arms.

Octavius forced himself to look up at the taller man.

“I’m surprised you even know what a toga is.”

“I’m not dumb.” Jedediah huffed.

“That’s debatable.”

“Whatever.” Jedediah rolled his eyes. “Why’re you wearing it?”

Octavius adjusted the books he was carrying so he could hold it for a longer amount of time.

“For Drama class, we can do a short skit for extra-cred-” 

“Boring!” Jedediah quickly interrupted Octavius.

“…For extra-credit.” Octavius finished. “Mark and I put it together.”

“You Romans and your melodrama.” Jedediah shook his head.

“No, no. Not melodrama.” Octavius corrected. “Just drama.”

“ _Suuuure…_ ” Jedediah replied in such a way that Octavius could just  _hear_  the italics. “Anything with you is melodramatic.”

It was silent for about three seconds.

“When’s it gonna be?” Jedediah asked.

“ _Going to._ ” Octavius corrected, putting a finger up. Jedediah gave him a confused look.

“It’s ‘going to’, not ‘gonna’.” The shorter man explained.

“S’what I said.”

“No, yo-” Octavius cut himself off. “I can’t have this argument again. You’re supposed to say them as individual words.”

“An’ that’s what I’m doin’!” Jedediah uncrossed his arms and made a pose that read,  _‘Oh my God’_.

“Fine. Whatever.” Octavius muttered. “It’s going to be during lunch. Care to come?”

“Ohhh.” Jedediah shook his head. “Shoot Octy. I can’t. Amelia an’ I are s’pposed to go on a date.”

“A date?” Octavius repeated. “Like, with candles and everything?”

Jedediah laughed, an extremely obnoxious laugh. He didn’t care to admit it but Octavius liked it.

“You’ve never been on a date b’fore?”

“Uh- Of course I have!” Octavius said as loudly as possible without yelling.

“Mmhm.” Jedediah cocked a brow. “Anyways-”

“Anyway.”

“ _Anyways_ , it’s not romantic or anything” Jedediah shrugged. “It’d be fun to see ya wearin’ that toga. ’M sorry I can’t go.”

Octavius gave off a light chuckle. “No you’re not.”

“I am.”

“ _Not_.”

Jedediah waved his hands in defeat. “Fine, sure. Believe what’cha want.”

“ _What you_.” Octavius said dryly. “It’s  _‘what you’_ , not- Not whatever you just said.”

“Whatever.” Jedediah shrugged. “I have that Lancelot kid in my class… All morning!”

“You keep talking about him, but I’ve never actually seen him.” Octavius observed. 

“Yeah, well. He used to go home for lunch. An’ he’s in yer English class!”

“Ah.” Octavius nodded. “What’s so bad about him?”

“What’s so bad about him? What’s so bad about h-” Jedediah cut himself off to throw his hands at his friend. “He’s a complete snob! An’ plus, literally every girl likes him!”

“So?”

“So! So what does that leave for ol’ Jedediah?”

Though it was rhetorical, and Octavius had no intention on replying, the bell rang before a second had passed.

“I gotta get to class.”

—

When Octavius arrived at Math Class, he noticed two new things.

Firstly, the wordwalls and math posters and whatnot had been taken down. 

_Pop quiz._

Secondly, Ahkmenrah was no longer where he was supposed to be. In fact, he wasn’t there at all.

He was supposed to be sitting next to Octavius. Instead, some guy with blond hair had replaced him.

 _Jedediah?_  Octavius realized that Jedediah never had hair that neat, and that he was just talking with him. Before approaching the student, he walked over to Mr. Fredericks’ desk.

Mr. Fredericks was hunched over a newspaper, dated to two days ago.

“Uh, who’s that guy? And where’s Ahkmenrah?” Octavius asked.

“Ahkmenrah switched classes with Lancelot.” His teacher replied, without looking up.

Octavius had to do a double take. “Th-That’s Lancelot?”

Mr. Fredericks looked up. “Yeah. Why so surprised?”

“Sorry, it’s just- My friend Jedediah talks about him like he’s some…snobby british… knight?” Octavius could feel his face making a weird expression.

“Well, he’s right about that.” Mr. Frederick’s replied, bending down to read the old newspaper again. “At least his parents are.”

Octavius took his teacher’s interest in the newspaper again as a sign that the conversation was over.

He took a seat next to Lancelot. 

“Hello.” Octavius greeted. “I’m- I’m Octavius.”

It was then that Lancelot lifted his head from his desk and grinned.

 _My Gods_ , were his eyes blue.

“Ah, the famous Octavius!”

“Famo-” Octavius got interrupted.

“I’m Lancelot!” The man hastily shook Octavius’ hand with a strong grip. “Jedediah talks about you a lot.”

“A lot?”

“Yes!” Lancelot confirmed. 

“What does he say,” Octavius made some hand motions. “About me?”

“Well, he once told a story about how he’s sure you like his cat more than him.” Lancelot said, with a strong british accent.

“I do like cats.”

“Tell me, where are you from?” Lancelot asked. “Octavius is not a common name, but then again, neither is Lancelot.”

He was so charming, Octavius wanted to melt.

“Ro-o-me.” Octavius’ voice cracked.

“Ah Rome!” Lancelot exclaimed. “Part of France, yes?”

“No. No, it’s- it’s part of Italy.” Octavius murmured, not wanting to embarrass his new friend. “It’s actually the capitol.”

Before Lancelot could reply, Mr. Fredericks started talking.

“Sorry about the delay!” He stood up. “I was quite invested in the newspaper. Gotta stay current, right?”

“With all due respect, sir, that was Tuesday's newspaper.” Abraham raised his hand, not waiting to be called. “It’s Thursday today.”

“Yesterday’s news is today’s history!” Mr. Fredericks replied, in an effort to reclaim whatever dignity he might’ve had.

“Like I said, that was Tuesday’s news…” Abe trailed off. “I do not wish to offend you, I must be honest is all.”

Mr. Fredericks frowned. “Not too honest, boy.”

“Clear your desks, we’re having a pop quiz!” Mr. Fredericks announced.

Lancelot leaned in on Octavius. “What a missed opportunity. He could’ve said test and made it rhyme.”

And Octavius giggled. 

_Giggled._

What the hell was that about? What could’ve caused him to sound like a twelve year old girl with a crush?

He was nothing like a twelve year old with a crush. 

He mentally began to list differences as he cleared his desk.

 _One,_  he thought.  _I’m not twelve._

_Two. I’m not a girl._

_Three_ , His train of thought stopped.

_Damn it._


	2. B-plus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He was just about to go to Mrs. O’Malley, when he remembered that Lancelot was in this class. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a partner, since this was his first year. Technically, it was everyone’s first year, they were all freshmens. Last year, everyone went to the same middle school though, one that Octavius had never seen Lancelot in.   
> It’s worth a shot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> adding Lance is a NATM cliche but he's necessary lol sorry

_"What you do today can improve all your tomorrows." Ralph Marston_

* * *

 

B+.  
Octavius got a _B-freaking-plus._  
In math.  
IN MATH.

Math wasn’t even his worst subject, science was. It wasn’t his best subject either, but it was close.

On his way to English class, he saw Jedediah, so they decided to walk together, since they both had English anyway.

“So-” Jedediah started.  
“I got a B.” Octavius interrupted.  
“Just a B?” Jedediah asked. “And in what?”  
Octavius shook his head. “No, I got a B+, which is basically a B. And the subject was math.”  
Jedediah covered his mouth, quickly, holding back a laugh.  
“What?” Octavius glared at his taller friend.  
“Nothin’, nothin’,” Jedediah waved his hand after recovering from his snicker. “It’s just, we got a math quiz back yesterday an’ I got an A-.”  
Octavius felt his stomach jump a little.  
“You.  _You_  got a higher grade than me?” Octavius’ eyes widened in disbelief.  
“Psh, no need to act so surprised. It was easy.” But Octavius wasn’t listening.  
“That’s not possible! How could  _you_  get a higher grade than me!?” Octavius didn’t notice Jedediah frown.  
“What’re you sayin’?” Jedediah asked.   
Octavius felt mad at Jedediah, maybe even jealous.

“I- it’s just- normally, you’re a straight-C student!” Octavius exclaimed.

Jedediah put a hand on Octavius’ shoulder. “Well, maybe I’m improving! Ain’t that a good thing?”

Octavius angrily brushed off Jedediah’s hand. 

“Yeah, sure, I guess.” Octavius grumbled, making it obvious he didn’t mean it.

—

English Class

Jedediah took a seat beside Sacagawea. 

His seating group consisted of Amelia, Lancelot, Sacagawea and himself.

He glanced over at the doorway, hoping to see Octavius walk in. Jedediah wasn’t exactly sure why (though he could take a fair guess), but Octavius had told him that he’d come to class later.

The last bell rang.

There were three bells.

Dismissal bell, warning bell and late bell. The three were all pretty self explanatory.

Mrs. O’Malley began taking attendance. Most teachers in their highschool didn’t call out names at all, they mentally took attendance. Mrs. O’Malley, however, called out names. Last names.

“Caesar?”

No answer, no reply.

Jedediah anxiously looked around, as if he were expecting Octavius to just appear. He wondered if Mrs. O’Malley would mark him late. That would be like the cherry on top of his assumingly bad day.

“Caesar?” Mrs. O’Malley repeated. 

No answer again.

“Pity,” She muttered as she moved her hand to mark him late. “He was on streak.”

“Actually, Octavius is- he’s gonna be a bit late. He was feelin’ a little bad earlier. Yeah.” Jedediah blurted, without raising his hand.

Mrs. O’Malley stared at him for a solid five seconds. Jedediah gulped. Five seconds was a pretty long time of silence.

Finally, she spoke. “Tell him to get to class first, next time.”

Then, she resumed attendance.

“Earhart?”

Amelia raised her hand. It went like that for a while, until Mrs. O’Malley got to the K area.

“Knights?”

“Actually, Mrs. O’Malley, it’s Du Lac.” Lancelot said. “Knights is my middle-name.”

Mrs. O’Malley didn’t bother to memorize last names, but instead first names, which was strange, considering the fact she called out last names.

She lowered her glasses.

“Oh, sorry, Lance.” She apologized. “New attendance. It was reprinted. Must’ve been cut off.”

—

Octavius came to class, about ten minutes late.

He tried to sneak in, but his teacher caught him.

“Octavius,” Octavius swallowed hard. He knew Mrs. O’Malley was strict about being late. He might get detention, so he prepared himself for it. “I hope you’re alright now.”

Octavius blinked in confusion. “Huh?”

“Jedediah told me you were feeling ill.” She waved her hand over her desk. “Hence your tardiness.”

“Oh.” Octavius felt bad, all of a sudden. He was being dumb earlier. Dumb and petty. Yet Jedediah still covered for him. “Uh, yeah. Thanks.”

He was glad that the class was distracted with an assignment, so he wouldn’t have to feel a stare from Jedediah. It’d probably have read, _‘Oh, I’m so nice. Covering for you, even though you were a jerk earlier.’_

He sat in his seat, next to Ahkmenrah.

“Hey, where’s Teddy?” Octavius asked.

Ahkmenrah was in the middle of writing, well more like scribbling due to his handwriting, a paragraph, probably about something other than the assignment.

He dropped his pencil and slowly looked up at Octavius. Octavius never liked it when he did that, it made him feel uncomfortable. Ahkmenrah was a weird kid, but no one would dare say that, since Attila would probably beat you up, or Larry would give you the cold shoulder for a week or so.

Ahkmenrah opened his mouth, drew in a sharp breath, then paused. He closed his mouth, picked up his pencil, started writing again and shrugged in response.

Octavius had to find something to do. From what he could tell, they were supposed to be working on some sort of project, and usually Jedediah or Teddy was his go-to partner.

He had no one else to ask.

No one, except-

He glanced at Ahkmenrah, who was now chewing the eraser on his pencil.

 _No, I’m not that desperate,_  He decided.

He was just about to go to Mrs. O’Malley, when he remembered that Lancelot was in this class. He was pretty sure he wouldn’t have a partner, since this was his first year. Technically, it was everyone’s first year, they were all freshmens. Last year, everyone went to the same middle school though, one that Octavius had never seen Lancelot in. 

_It’s worth a shot._

He walked over to the blond, who was drumming his fingers on the desk.

“Are you thinking?” Octavius asked, without thinking at all. “Because I do that when I think.”

_No I don’t._

“Oh, no.” Lancelot shrugged. “It’s just a habit. I play piano.”

“Me too!”

_I haven’t played an instrument since elementary._

“Really?” Lancelot asked, clearly intrigued. “What level are you on?”

Before Octavius could reply, Jedediah interrupted.

 _Thank the Gods_ , Octavius had no idea what leveling they used in piano.

“Hey Oct!” Jedediah greeted. “If ya need a group to join, you can join ours,”

He motioned towards him and Amelia. Amelia grinned. Octavius didn’t like it.

“It’s alright,” Lancelot answered for Octavius. “I don’t have a partner.”

Jedediah’s expression quickly changed from happy, to sort of dejected.

If Octavius noticed, he ignored it.

“Thanks Lancelot.” He said, going to his desk to get his pencil. “Can you explain what we have to do?”


	3. Uptight, prissy, boot-lickin' snob

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavius was on first. He was fully dressed in a toga. Despite being the lead director, he was mainly a background character. He was suddenly glad Jedediah wasn’t here.  
> Octavius gulped. He was the only character on in this scene. He was supposed to be carrying a basket of food. In his head, a list of things that could go wrong was running through his head. That list included slipping and ending up in the hospital.  
> Mark drew the curtains and Octavius silently gasped. He paled.

_"I've never told anyone this. But I suffer from terrible stage fright. True. You can't tell though, can you? Unbelievable, the panic. I nearly die of fear before I go on stage. Something wicked. I can't eat a thing the day before the gig. It'd make me vomit." John Lyndon_

* * *

 

 

“No, no. I’m pretty sure it was Sacagawea, not Larry.” Amelia told Jedediah.

They were supposed to be writing a report about Pompeii as a joint-grade with History Class. Instead, they were arguing about who suggested that Jed should major in Stupidity in university, that is if he ever got in.

“Nah, Sac wouldn’t ever say somethin’ like that. Except maybe t'ah George.” Jedediah shook his head. “You should know that, heh.”

“Oh, just because I’m-” Amelia got interrupted.

“Jedediah and Amelia,” Mrs. O'Malley called out. “I do hope you’re staying on task, you two.”

Jedediah flashed her a grin. “You betcha!" 

 Mrs. O'Malley nodded approvingly. "Well, it’s a good thing you are, we’re presenting these next week." 

 "Whoa, whoa, whoa.” Amelia held a finger up. “Presenting?" 

 Lancelot answered for Mrs. O'Malley. "Yes? Next week? Were you two not paying attention?" 

 Jedediah waved his hand in a swooshing motion in front of him. "Of course I was! Amelia here pro'lly wasn’t." 

 Amelia touched her hand to her chest and gasped in mock astonishment. "Rude!" 

 Jedediah shook his head. "Mmf, we better start." 

 Amelia pointed at their draft. "We already did." 

 "We wrote a sentence.” Jedediah said. 

 "Well, we didn’t actually finish it…“ Amelia trailed off. 

 "It’d probably help if you got a textbook.” Amelia turned around and smiled at Sacagawea. “Would you like me to get one for you?" 

 "Yes please,” Amelia replied. “And by the way, weren’t you the one who said Jed over here should major in stupidty?" 

 Sacagawea broke in to a grin. "Technically, I said ‘moronity’.” She then went to the textbook. 

 Amelia gave off a smug grin at Jedediah. “Told you so!" 

 Jedediah playfully batted her arm. "Whatever, Am. S'not like you were completely right 'nyways.” He then directed his next reply to Sacagawea. “What does  _moronity_ mean, anyhow?" 

 Sacagawea walked over to them and placed down a textbook. "I see my statement still stands.” She said to Amelia, softly. 

 "You got that right,“ Amelia shot back.

—

Jedediah followed Octavius all the way to the Stage.

“Oct, ‘M sorry I can’t be there an’ stuff.” Jedediah shrugged. “Y’know, I wouldn’ta made plans with Am if I knew about this,”

Octavius slightly cringed at Amelia’s nickname.

“It’s alright,” Octavius sighed. “Lancelot said he’ll meet me here.”

Jedediah gave his friend a confused look. “Lancelot?”

“Yeah.” Octavius nodded. “Lan-ce-lot.”

“Y’mean that uptight, prissy, boot-lickin’ snob?” Jedediah crossed his arms, and tensed his shoulders.

“Boot-licking…?” Octavius shook his head. “No, no. He’s actually really, really charming. Yeah.”

“What, like Prince Charmin’?” Jedediah asked, arms still crossed but loosening. “Yeah, sure, alrigh’. He’s an uptight, prissy, boot-lickin’ snob. Who is also charming. Quote unquote.” 

Octavius sighed and rolled his eyes. “Jedediah, have you even talked to him?”

“W-well, yeah!” Jedediah huffed. “I mean, I dunno. I ain’t wastin’ my time talkin’ to some uptight, prissy, boot-lick-” 

“Oh- oh my Gods. Please stop.” Octavius pinched the bridge of his nose. “You should actually talk to him. He has a very grandiose vocabulary.”

“A very grandi- what now?” Jedediah cocked his head to the side. 

“Something you clearly lack.” Octavius then got a hopeful look on his face. “Maybe he could teach you a thing or two. You two should meet up. Maybe- Maybe now. Right now.”

Jedediah grinned. “Nice try, amigo. I can’t. Y’know that.”

Octavius didn’t have time to feel sad, since Lancelot showed up, as if on queue.

“It’s too bad I haven’t formerly met you,” Lancelot startled Jedediah. “It’s a shame I can’t now either. Perhaps next time.”

“Uhh, yeah. Yeah okay, whatever.” Jedediah swiftly turned around. “I gotta go.”

—

Amelia sat, bored, waiting for her date. It wasn’t even a romantic date, and Jedediah was still late. 

She heard the door open and expected Jedediah to burst through, apologizing for being late, or at least sheepishly handing over a crumpled napkin that had the word ‘sorry’ written on it.

The person who did come through the door was Sacagawea. Amelia waved over at her. “Sac, come over here!”

Sacagawea did as she was told. “Where’s Jedediah?”

Amelia shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably foolin’ off or talking someone’s ear off. It’s not really my place t’say.”

“I can keep you company until he comes,” Sacagawea suggested. “How’s your Pompeii report coming?”

“It ain’t exactly the bee’s knees,” Amelia replied. “But it’ll do.”

“Mine is coming along well, considering the fact that I have George as a partner.” Sacagawea said.

“I thought you hated Georgie?” Amelia asked. “Y’know, I could’ve been his partner, you could’ve been with Jed.”

“That,” Sacagawea smiled. “Would’ve been the same thing anyway.”

Amelia let a grin creep up her face. “I suppose so!” Then the smile disappeared. “But it’s not like I’m any better than either of the two.”

Sacagawea processed what Amelia was saying quickly, and felt bad. “I wasn’t implying-”

“Sorry Am!” Amelia quickly sat up and turned around. “I was talkin’ with Octy.”

“So you decided to show up after all, huh Jeddy?” Amelia poked his arm.

Jedediah shrugged. “That Lancelot kid’s a real nuisance. An addle-headed fella, if I do say so m’self.”

“What did he do this time?” Amelia sighed, letting Sacagawea know that this was not the first time Jedediah complained about him.

“He’s all-over Octavius an’ his plays an dramatic…stuff.” Jedediah blurted. “He’s a bad egg, I tell ya. Jus’ wants to play Octavius.”

“I hardly think that’s his intention, Jeddy.” Amelia replied. “It’s not his fault if Octavius wants a buss from him. Y’know, a smooch.”

“If that really was the case, he wouldn’t know all this baloney about theatrical…roman…scripts. Plays. Y’know what I mean!” Jedediah took a seat next to his date. “An besides, I’m 100% sure Octy ain’t queer! He’s had his fair share of girls. I think. Crushes. Yeah.”

“If he’s such a dewdropper, why does Oct want anything to do with him?” Amelia asked.

“Ain’t it obvious!?” Jedediah threw his arms out. “Octy’s tryin’ to make me- make me  _jealous_  for not goin’ to dumb play.”

“Sounds like it's working, Jed.” Amelia grinned.

Inside Jedediah, something went _snap,_  he didn’t know what, but it made him mad. “Me? Jealous of that beef-headed idiot? Ha! He can take a hike for all I care! I don’t get jealous!”

“Say what you’d like Jeddy, but I know a _jealous john_  when I see one. Hear one.” Amelia said, knowingly.

“Argh, ‘Melia! Why in tarnation would I be jealous of that empty-headed idiot?!” Jedediah huffed.

“Because,” Amelia replied, simply. “Octavius thinks he’s the whole kit and caboodle, an’ you don’t like that.”

“ _I ain’t jealous!_ ” This went on for a while, Sacagawea just stood there, not understanding a word coming from either of the two’s mouths. 

—

“That Jeremiah chap seemed nice!” Lancelot clapped his hands together.

“Uh, yeah. He is. But he’s also rude and very noisy.” Octavius said. “Also, he’s name is Jedediah.”

Lancelot watched as Octavius rushed around the stage, trying to get everything ready and set up just right. He was queuing the scenery so they’d come out in the proper order, and was trying to help Mark adjust the lights.

After fifteen minutes, it was finally set up, just right. There were four extras, which were all mostly Mark’s friends.

“Mark, why’s Napoleon here?” Octavius whisper-yelled. “He keeps getting the lines wrong!”

“He’s better than Abe!” Mark retorted.

“We are not switching out Abe! It’s too late anyway.” 

“Whatever.” Mark rolled his eyes.

Octavius was on first. He was fully dressed in a toga. Despite being the lead director, he was mainly a background character. He was suddenly glad Jedediah wasn’t here.

“Are you alright?” Lancelot’s voice startled him. “You look a little dauncy.”

“Dauncy- oh. Yeah- just- just stage fright I guess.” Octavius tried to play it cool. “This doesn’t happen very often, I assure you.”

“Lance, get off the stage!” Mark ushered him towards the seats.

Octavius gulped. He was the only character on in this scene. He was supposed to be carrying a basket of food. In his head, a list of things that could go wrong was running through his head. That list included slipping and ending up in the hospital.

Mark drew the curtains and Octavius silently gasped. He paled.

_I won’t mess up, I won’t mess up, **I won’t mess up** …_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> addle-headed: empty-headed  
> dewdropper: lazy guy  
> dauncy: ill, sick


	4. The Percussionist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ahkmenrah never did get into band, but he did a great deal of ‘coincidentally’ running-in-to Daley.
> 
> And not the kind of running-in-to that initiates conversations.
> 
> They sometimes exchanged smiles or waves but that was it. Sometimes, Ahkmenrah worried that Daley was actually waving at someone behind him.
> 
> Now, he sat four seats across from Daley. He sneaked glances at him every so often, not waiting for Daley to catch him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh gosh it's so hard to write tablet guardians oh gosh, please forgive me if it's terrible.  
> This chapter is a mix of Jedtavius and Tablet Guardians

_"It's fine to have social media that connects us with old friends, but we need tools that help us discover new people as well." Ethan Zuckerman_

* * *

 

Ahkmenrah had gone to the Atrium to watch Octavius and Mark’s play. 

Ahkmenrah didn’t like Mark much, rarely talked to Octavius and didn’t even know some of the extras.

He came because of Daley.

That’s the name Ahkmenrah decided to give the kid.  _Daley._

It might seem like an awfully strange first-name, but that was just it. It wasn’t his first-name. Ahkmenrah didn’t know the guy’s first-name.

He’s never even talked to him before, but he did know that Daley knew him.

A few months ago, Ahkmenrah decided to try out for band. It couldn’t be all that hard, he played the drums. His parents made sure that all their children played at least one instrument and sport. Ahkmenrah’s sport was dance. Yeah, _dance._ Anyway, the drums that Ahkmenrah played weren’t at all the cool drums. They were like tambourines or xylophones. So Ahkmenrah didn’t play the drums, actually. He played percussion.

He hated it. 

_The flyer was still there. It was almost teasing him now. Come on, it had been at least two weeks since Ms. Hutman had put it up. It was like Ms. Hutman was practically forcing Ahkmenrah to join band._

_No way am I joining that._

_Ahkmenrah was just about to successfully walk past it when a tall boy carrying a tool box walked in._

_Ahkmenrah had only seen him for a second or two but he could list almost fifty things about him._

_One, he wasn’t carrying an instrument._

_Two, he had disheveled brown hair._

_Three- well, Three, he looked nice. Not nice, as in appealing or attractive, God no, but as in different. Ahkmenrah was sure he’d never seen him around._

_It wouldn’t do any harm in getting to know the guy. Who was not appealing. Or attractive._

_—_

_“Special effects? As in lights and stuff?” Ahkmenrah had started a conversation with Napoleon, who was also trying out for band with a clarinet.  
_

_“Oui, he’s part of the Stage Crew and Technology club.” Napoleon replied, adjusting his embouchure.  
_

_The two were talking about the tall guy, whom Ahkmenrah has seen earlier. Ahkmenrah glanced over at him. He was fiddling with one of the flashlights._

_“I’ve never seen him around.”  
_

_“I don’t even know his name.” Napoleon replied, sitting in playing position. “Now,_  tais-toi _, I need to practice.”  
_

 _Ahkmenrah knew that_ tais-toi _translated into shut up, so he did just that._

_The brown-haired kid looked up and saw Ahkmenrah._

_Ahkmenrah froze, but almost completely_ melted  _when he waved at him. Ahkmenrah waved back._

_“Can you stop? You’re blocking my sheet!” Napoleon interrupted their little exchanges._

_Jerk._

Ahkmenrah never did get into band, but he did a great deal of ‘coincidentally’ running-in-to Daley.

And not the kind of running-in-to that initiates conversations.

They sometimes exchanged smiles or waves but that was it. Sometimes, Ahkmenrah worried that Daley was actually waving at someone behind him.

Now, he sat four seats across from Daley. He sneaked glances at him every so often, not waiting for Daley to catch him.

But he thought for a while, a realized that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

Their eyes would lock, just like those romance novels he read every then and now.

It would be perfect.

Ahkmenrah hesitantly turned his head,  _his whole head_ , to look at Daley.

And it happened.

They locked eyes, for a split second. Not even that. Because as soon as he caught him, his head cracked back to look at the stage, almost like a whip.

He could see Daley smiling out of the corner of his eye.

_Talk to him._

No, he can’t. He actually, physically can’t. His body wouldn’t allow him to move at all.

“Hi.”

_Oh my God._

_Oh my- Oh God._

_He was talking. To. He’s talking. To me. To me._

_Don’t be stupid._

“I’m Ahk, hi.”  _Well. Failed that part.  
_

“Hey, I’m La-”

Someone drew the curtains.

A loud sound of a trumpet could be heard. Any thing Daley said had now been drowned out by the trumpet.

Octavius was standing there, in the middle of what seemed to be an ancient city. There were white, silvery columns and flowers on the ground.

Octavius took a deep breath.

“Death! It has befallen the sick and lost…” 

Ahkmenrah didn’t pay attention to what happened next since all that was on his mind was Daley. Daley. Who’s name began with La. 

He was sure he was smiling like a fool.

He was giddy. Well, he was until he realized that Daley might hate him now, or at least think he was some sort of weirdo.

He felt a tap on his shoulder.

Oh my God.

Ahkmenrah looked to his left.

“I’m Larry Daley.”

“I know.” Well, that didn’t sound stalker-ish at all. Nope.

“You’re the- You’re the kid I wave to all the time, right?”

 _All the time._ “Er, yeah. Unless there’s some other…guy.” 

“Nah. I actually know your uh, your brother. Kahmunrah?” Larry said. “Yeah, he used to bully me back in grade seven.”

“Oh, so you’re not new?”

“No. I’ve never seen you around though. It’s probably because I’m usually just in here.” Larry shrugged. “I work the lights.”

“Yeah I know.” Ahk replied. “I mean, I see you sometimes during school plays and stuff.”

Larry was about to reply, when someone shushed them.

“Talk to you later?” Larry didn’t wait for a reply, and looked back at Octavius.

_Definitely._

_\---_

“That. Was brilliant.” Octavius had just come down the stairs, and was getting clapped on the back by Lancelot.

 Octavius immediately smiled and felt like he was on top of the world. 

 "Well done, guys,“ Ms. Hutman said. Ms. Hutman was their Music and History teacher. "I especially liked what you did with the cellophane on the lights, Mark." 

 Mark gave a dorky smile. "Thanks, Ms. Hutman!” He glanced over at the seats, where Larry and Ahkmenrah were chatting. “It was mostly Larry’s idea.”

“Wow. That was awesome!” Octavius turned around, and saw Amelia.

 "Amelia? I thought you were on a date with J-“

 "Oh yeah, well Jed wouldn’t stop complaining about Lancelot, so we came in about five minutes ago.” Amelia explained. “Jed’s somewhere over there." 

 ”… You do realize that in the last five minutes, I wasn’t even on?“

 "I bet your aura was good luck.” Amelia grinned. 

 "Hah, great explanation. Really.“ Octavius laughed. He glanced over at Jedediah. He was about to call him over but stopped himself. What if Jed didn’t see him or ignored him? He couldn’t imaging the embarrassment that would flood through him.

 Can’t risk it. 

 "How did you memorize all those lines, Octavus?” Octavius turned around and saw Larry with Ahkmenrah. 

 "It was quite hard, but I- we, we prevailed.“ Octavius replied with pride. "And its Octavius, Mary." 

 "Pft, whatever, man." 

 — 

What in the world was Octavius doing? 

 Just talking? 

 Surely Amelia had told Octavius that Jed was here too? 

 Ugh. 

Why hadn’t Octavius waved him over or something? 

 After about two minutes of debating whether he should go, he decided to. 

 For goodness sakes, he wasn’t some _vampire_ waiting to be invited. 

 Jedediah confidently walked over to the large group surrounding Mark, Abraham, Napoleon, Ivan, Cassius and most importantly, Octavius. 

 "Oct!” Jedediah called. “Great job!” But Octavius didn’t _hear._  

Stupid Lancelot was talking to him. 

He wouldn’t stop.

 For goodness sake. 

 "Octy, I said, great job!“ Jedediah repeated, feeling a bit embarrassed for not being recognized. 

 Amelia, bless her soul, noticed Jedediah. 

 "Oh, Lancelot, stop beating your gums and let Jedediah speak.” She said, putting the charming man in his place.

 "A myriad of apologies, Jedediah.“ Lancelot apologized.

 "Yeah, yeah whatever.” Jedediah leaned in to Octavius. “I bet ya Myriad means somethin’ dirty.”

 "It means ‘too many to count’,“ Octavius corrected, slightly shoving Jed off. "Why don’t you like Lancelot?" 

 Jedediah’s smile faltered. 

"Why do you like him?”

 "Why not?“ Octavius countered. "He’s a great guy." 

 "So you like the show-offy types.” Jedediah narrowed his eyes. 

 "What’s that supposed to mean?“ Octavius raised a brow. "Lancelot’s a really nice guy, I think he likes me." 

 Oh for goodness sakes. 

Jedediah couldn’t just watch his friend giggle like a schoolgirl.

 "What he likes is parading you around like some sort of show-horse!” Jedediah spat. “He’s jus’ usin’ ya, Octy!”

 "I-I’m not that great, Jed…“ Octavius said, shyly. Did Jed think he was really that worthy? 

"Ya ain’t gotta put yerself down like that for- for Sir Shows-off-a-lot!” Jedediah blurted. “He’s probably using ya for a grade or something." 

 "Nice pun,” Octavius rolled his eyes. “He’s not using me, I assure you." 

Octavius glanced at his watch. Jedediah always wondered why Octavius wore it. He had a phone.

 "It’s almost fourth period, I gotta go.” Octavius said. “See you after school?" 

"Uh, yeah. Yeah okay.”


	5. Cleopatra

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amelia blinked, she could hardly believe it.
> 
> One of the smartest, no, the smartest student in the class, in the school maybe, would be teaching her. And Sacagawea knew she was a sap, an idiot. And best of all, it was with her. Her best friend in the whole world. 
> 
> Wait, no. 
> 
> Scratch that. 
> 
> The best part was that it was free.

_"You can be the moon and still be jealous of the stars." Gary Allan_

* * *

 

_C’mon, just one more minute…_

Amelia had been staring at the clock for a solid five minutes.

That meant Amelia hadn’t been listening to the lesson for a solid five minutes.

Oh. Well. It’s not like she ever payed attention in Social Studies.

After all, what was the point in doing anything if it wasn’t fun?

“…And that concludes our lesson,” Ms. Hutman said, back to her class. She was writing their homework on the board.

“Not much homework tonight, but there is still some.” Ms. Hutman said, turning around. “Amelia, are you listening?”

Amelia heard her name, and took a quick last glance at the clock. “Yeah. Um. Something about.. Homework.”

“Correct.” Ms. Hutman replied. “For homework, you just have to practice your Pompeii report, _and,_ ”

She paused to let the class groan at the  _and._

“And, study, study hard, for tomorrow’s test.” She finished. “Because there will be no retakes this time.” She eyed Amelia.

—

“I just don’t get why she hates me, Sac,” Amelia groaned.

The two were walking around the mall, since Sacagawea needed to buy her mother a present.

“I’m sure she doesn’t hate you, Amelia,” Sacagawea replied, grabbing a box of kitchen utensils. “Maybe if you studied harder-”

“But I do Sac, I do!” Amelia exclaimed. “And it never works! It’s all phonus balonus t’me.”

Sacagawea put the box back and eyed Amelia seriously. “Phonus…Balonus?”

“Yeah, you know, nonsense!” Amelia sighed and slumped against the wall. “Complete and utter.”

“Perhaps I could make sense of it for you.” Sacagawea suggested.

“Are you saying… You’re gonna tutor me?”

“Yes.” Sacagawea confirmed. “If that’s all right with you.”

Amelia held a finger up. “Would it be free?”

Sacagawea smiled, one of the most beautiful smiles Amelia had ever seen. 

“For you, it would be.”

Amelia blinked, she could hardly believe it.

One of the smartest, no,  _the_ smartest student in the class, in the school maybe, would be teaching her. And Sacagawea knew she was a sap, an idiot. And best of all, it was with  _her_. Her best friend in the whole world. 

Wait, no. 

Scratch that. 

The best part was that it was free.

—

“Hey Jed,” Octavius greeted, when he saw him after school. 

“Hey Oct!” Jedediah grinned. “What do ya wanna do? Oh, I know! ‘Melia said this new joint opened up an-”

Jedediah stopped himself when he saw _him_.

Lancelot.

“What’s he doin’ here?” Jedediah asked, not at all trying to seem civil. 

“Oh, Octavius said I could join, is that all right?” Lancelot asked, oh-so innocently.

“No, ac-” Octavius grabbed Jedediah’s arm. 

“Um, just a second Lance!” Octavius called, dragging Jedediah away, somewhere secluded.

_Lance?_

_Lance?!_

_They’ve got nicknames now?_

“Jed!” Octavius said, when they were behind the corner. “Come on, maybe you’ll learn to like Lance! You can talk, actually talk!”

“Oct! Ya gotta acknowledge the corn!” Jedediah pointed accusingly at Lancelot. “He probably just wants to get a better grade or- or _kiss_ ya or somethin’!”

Octavius’ expression changed from hopeful, to confused, to embarrassed.

“I- I- He what?” Octavius could feel his face heat up.

“Yeah!” Jedediah said, ignoring his friend’s state. “But it don’t matter since you’re in to girls, right? Right. Anyways, I think it’s best to drop him.”

“Uhh. Yeah. Yeah, I’m not gonna- going to-”

“Octavius! Can you not see-” Jedediah got interrupted.

“Are you two done?” Lancelot asked. “Some of the teachers are asking us to get off school property.”

“Yeah, we’ll be right there,” Octavius called. 

“Octavius, you’re too naive.” Jedediah said, before they both left the corner.

“And you, Jedediah, have got to learn to trust people more.” Octavius smiled. “What do you think is going to happen? You’re still my friend.”

“But am I your best friend?” Jedediah asked, quietly, so Octavius coudn’t hear it.

–

“I- I’m sorry, what?” Ahkmenrah was laughing too hard, he couldn’t hear a thing Larry said.

“Dexter- he bit her, he bit my aunt!” Larry said, laughing. “We had to give him away.”

“To who?” Ahkmenrah asked, recovering from his laughs.

“Teddy! Y’know, the one in your english class?” Larry grinned.

The two were hanging out at the stage, helping Ms. Hutman and Mark clean up.

Ahkmenrah stopped laughing and began eyeing Mark, and then began nudging Larry.

“Go on, ask.”

“What, man, I can’t.” Larry shoved him. “Mark already hates me, as it is.”

“He hates everyone.”

“Not Cleopatra!” Larry and Ahkmenrah burst in to giggles at the mention of her name. 

Mark rolled his eyes, and set his load down.

“What are you idiots laughing about?” He asked. “You should be helping.”

Mark narrowed his eyes when he heard the two boys whisper.

“Ask!” Ahkmenrah tilted his head toward Mark.

“Oh, alright,  _fine._ ” Larry smiled.

Larry turned around to face Mark, smiling like a fool.

“…What?” Mark asked.

“Is it- Is it true, that you have a crush on Cleo?” Larry asked, trying not to laugh.

Mark’s eyes widened and he immediately got in a defensive state. 

“ _Had_! I  _had_! Like- like two years ago!” Mark almost yelled, making motions with his hands.

Larry and Ahkmenrah started laughing again.

Personally, Ahkmenrah didn’t understand why Mark was so embarrassed, it was just a crush.

That thought lasted about five seconds because he felt butterflies when he simply _glanced_ at Larry.

“Oh my Gods, shut up!” Mark yelled.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Ms. Hutman asked, coming in, carrying chairs.

“These- these _lovebirds_ are just laughing and laughing, they aren’t even helping!” Mark accusingly pointed a finger at the two boys.

Ahkmenrah continued laughing but secretly, the word  _Lovebirds_  kept ringing in his head.

Ms. Hutman ignored it.

“Boys.” She gave them a serious look. “Start helping, or leave.”

Since neither of the boys wanted to separate but both of them were too shy to walk home with eachother, they both decided to stay and help.


	6. Mount Everest, the volcano

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sacagawea didn’t know what to do. Her friend was sad, beyond sad probably. Amelia was probably feeling anxious, or worse, dumb. That was something Sacagawea never wanted any of her friends to feel. 
> 
> To feel dumb, was to feel small.
> 
> It was one of the main reasons Sacagawea didn’t offer to tutor Jedediah or Amelia or any of her… under-achieving friends. She was afraid of making them feel small.
> 
> Sacagawea truly didn’t know what to do. This didn’t occur very often, Sacagawea was normally the one her friends could count on to be sympathetic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some sacagamelia and jedtavius texts

_"An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools." Ernest Hemingway_

* * *

 

“Amelia, no,” Sacagawea said, trying her best to maintain calm. “It’s Mount Vesuvius, not Mount Everest. Everest isn’t even a volcano.”

Amelia crossed her arms. “We don’t know that!” She huffed. “Did the people of Pompeii know Mount Eve- Vesuvius was a volcano? No!”

“At least you were paying attention to  _something_ …” Sacagawea sighed. 

“Okay, fine, maybe I don’t know the name of some volcano but that’s probably gonna be worth two points on the quiz!” Amelia said.

Sacagawea tightened her jaw. “Okay, would you like me to test you then?”

Amelia smiled. This was her chance to maybe,  _just maybe_ , prove herself to Sacagawea. That she wasn’t dumb.

“Ready when you are!”

“Alright,” Sacagawea said, grabbing her binder and flipping through the pages. “What date did Vesuvius erupt?”

“Um… 97 AD?” Amelia gave a sheepish smile. She was pretty sure she was wrong, when Sacagawea didn’t say anything. “98 AD. 99?”

“Seventy-” 

“Seventy-Nine AD!” Amelia called out. 

Sacagawea suppressed a smile. “Correct, now what month and day?”

“Er…” Amelia thought long and hard. Long. Mostly long. About 2 minutes.

“Need a little hint?” Sacagawea asked.

“No, it’s okay.” Amelia replied. “It was…August?”

Amelia felt smart when she saw Sacagawea brighten up.

“August 12th!” Sacagawea’s smile faded. She had gotten a little over-confident.

“No, August the twenty-fourth.” Sacagawea corrected her.

“Oh.”

“It’s okay, you’ll get it.” Sacagawea said, reassuringly. 

“The test is tomorrow, Sac!” Amelia cried out, hopelessly. “I’m gonna fail!”

Sacagawea didn’t know what to do. Her friend was sad, beyond sad probably. Amelia was probably feeling anxious, or worse, dumb. That was something Sacagawea never wanted any of her friends to feel. 

To feel dumb, was to feel small.

It was one of the main reasons Sacagawea didn’t offer to tutor Jedediah or Amelia or any of her…  _under-achieving_  friends. She was afraid of making them feel small.

Sacagawea truly didn’t know what to do. This didn’t occur very often, Sacagawea was normally the one her friends could count on to be sympathetic.

“You can fake sick tomorrow.” Sacagawea blurted out. Her saying that even surprised herself.

“ _What_?” Amelia was confused, Sacagawea was pretty much a goody-two-shoes, stuck to the rules.

“I said, you can fake sick.” Sacagawea then explained. “Not miss the whole day, of course, but the test is after lunch break, right?”

“Right.”

“So vomit.”

“Excuse me?”

“Take some of the cafeteria’s soup. Then vomit. I’ll cover for you.”

Amelia laughed. “Sac, I have a strong stomach.”

“I have fists.”

“You wouldn’t-”

“Do you want to fail the test?” Sacagawea asked, seriously. “I don’t like lying, Amelia, but I’d do it for a friend.”

Amelia laughed again, this one sounding fainter than the other. “Alright, alright… just, just don’t punch me too hard, alright?”

—

Jedediah stepped outside, in the brisk autumn air.

Octavius and Lancelot were inside the community center, hanging out in the public library.

That bothered Jedediah for many reasons.

They were having fun, that was the biggest reason of all.

Who has fun in a library? And with that idiot? That- _That british snob?_

“Damn it,” Jedediah fumbled with his phone, setting his backpack down on the grass. It was nearly 4:00.

Jedediah was mad.

So he did what Octavius did when he was mad.

No,  _he did not_  punch a pillow, he did that other thing.

He took three deep breaths. 

One…

Two…

Three…

He could smell the bricks that ran along the walls of the community center. He could smell leaves and hear them as well. He could also smell… the forest? What would the forest even smell like? Impossible to describe. He could smell apples as well.

  _He could smell Autumn_. He wasn’t sure how, but he just could.

It smelled of Autumn. He opened his eyes. 

He was mad that it worked. Did that mean it didn’t work? Jed wasn’t so sure.

His hands were cold. He let out a breath over them, watching a puff of visible air come from his mouth.

Jedediah smiled, remembering when he and Octavius used to pretend they were smoking.

He gazed skywards. A thick cloud blanketed the sky. It was grey. And it looked heavy.

Grey and heavy.

And earlier- earlier he could smell the forest. 

_Crap._

It was going to rain. 

—

“You sure Octavius won’t be mad that you left him?” Jedediah was sitting at the dinner table, his head being propped up by his arms. 

“Yes, ma,” Jedediah replied. “It was gonna rain, Oct would understand.”

His mother stopped shifting the pan around and gazed out the window that was right over their sink.

“And _damn_ , boy, is it raining hard, Jay!” She called out.

When Jedediah was younger, he called himself Jay. He thought it sounded cool. He was wrong.

His mother, on the other hand, well, it stuck with her.

She walked over and placed a plate full of spaghetti with sauce and vegetables on the table in front of Jedediah.

“Nice to know my son has some survival skills,” She said, kissing him on the top of his head. “Enjoy, I do hope Octavius and his friend got home dry.”

—

Wet.

Octavius’ socks were soaked. His hair was soaked. His clothes were soaked. His nose was wet as well, and not just with rain.

“Octavius!” His father rushed over to him. “Why the _hell_ were you out for so long?! I told you it was going to rain today. And you still decided to wear the toga!”

“Dad, it was for a presentation. And I’m not wearing the toga now, am I?”

“I don’t even- Just take a shower. Go.” He pointed upstairs. “I have work friends coming over for dinner. You need to look presentable.”

“Yeah okay, sorry dad.” Octavius said, trudging up the stairs.

“You should be. Your mother even prepared your favourite meal!” Octavius’ father exclaimed.

“Oh, uh, thanks.”

His father’s face softened. “I’m sure you did great in your presentation, Tavi.”

—

JedS1799: it was gonna rain! Sry!

Octodaddy: You could’ve texted me!

JedS1799: Well I didn’t think u would here! Yknow since u were talking with sir idiot

Octodaddy: *Hear

Octodaddy: Well, the gesture would’ve been nice!

-JedS1799 has muted the chat-

Octodaddy: I know you’re mad that I invited Lance but you could’ve been civil!

Octodaddy: I put up with your friends, so put up with mine!

Octodaddy: fine, I’m glad you left the library! You would’ve been a sourpuss anyways.

Octodaddy: *anyway

-last message sent at 9:54 pm-

Octodaddy: Sorry Jed.

-last message sent at 11:45-


	7. Leon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Al, on the other hand, was a mess. His skin had dark splotches, presumably dirt or mud. He had perpetual dark eyebags and his hair was probably chock-full of grease.
> 
> Or hair-gel. 
> 
> His eyes were brown-ish blue, and Napoleon wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a scar on his forehead. If there really was one, the nickname Scarface worked out just fine.
> 
> He didn’t stop and think about how he got it, though.
> 
> "Y'know, it takes four seconds for a silence to become awkward.“ Al spoke up.

 

_"Life is like a game of cards. The hand you are dealt is determinism; the way you play it is free will." Jawaharlal Nehru_

* * *

 

“And that,” Al slammed down one of his cards, revealing an Ace. “is how you win.”

“Dang it!” Pete cried. “I was sure Nip over there had all the Aces." 

 Al raised a brow. "The Frenchie ain’t even playing." 

 "I am too!” Napoleon huffed. “And do not call me either of those names!”

 "Whatever you say, French fry.“ Al replied, shrugging.

 "No. I’m vetoing that nickname.”

 "Ha!“ Al laughed a laugh that sounded forced but at the same time genuine. You could never really tell with him. 

"You don’t get ‘ny vetoes." 

 "Try me.”

 "French toast.“

 "Vetoed.”

 "Small fry.“ 

 "Vetoed.” Napoleon repeated. 

 "Shortstack.“

 "Vetoed.”

 "Leon.“

 Napoleon let out a low whistle that meant 'vetoed’.

 "I didn’t hear a no,” Pete grinned. 

 "That settles it,“ Al said, smirking. "Leon.”

 "I meant no!“ Napoleon said, suddenly.

 "Did you- did you hear something, Pete?” Al asked, ignoring Napoleon.

 "Mmm, don’t think I did,“ Pete hummed. 

 Napoleon let out a low growl. He was about to get physical, until he got an idea. 

 " _D'accor_ _d_ , Scarface.” Napoleon smiled at himself, proud of thinking of that. 

Pete let out a low, 'ooh’ and narrowed his eyes. “Al don’t like that." 

 Al layed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. "It’s okay, Petey, Leon’s an exception.”

 Napoleon hated how calm Al was being. He hated the nickname as well.

 "Je deteste toi.“ Napoleon seethed. 

 "Sorry, I don’t speak fancy.” Al looked smug. 

 "I don’t speak idiot.“

 — 

Friday 

SacShoshone: Alright, remember what we talked about yesterday. 

 Airheart: yeah, yeah ik. 

 Airheart: just don’t punch me too hard kay 

 — 

 "Jed!” Octavius called. “Did you- did you get my texts?" 

 Octavius ran over to Jedediah, who was just barely on school property. 

Jedediah turned around and instantly regretted that, since he was accidentally hug-tackled by Octavius. 

 "Oof!" 

 "Oh my Gods, sorry Jedediah!” Octavius said, face coloured red and not just because he was out of breath. “I- its just- Did you get my apology?" 

 "No,” Jedediah grunted. “I muted the chat, idiot." 

 "I’m sorry, Jed.” Octavius said, still holding his friend’s arm. “I’m sorry about calling you a sourpuss and leaving you out-" 

 "It’s not about that!” Jedediah said. “It- it’s about-”

 "About what?“

 ”…Nevermind,“ Jedediah said, quietly. "Doesn’t matter.”

 "Does.“

 "Not.” Jedediah silently laughed in his head, relishing the déja vu and sudden change of roles. 

 "Jed,“ Octavius stopped after that. Jedediah turned around to see why he stopped. 

 Lancelot.

 Of course. 

 "Argh!” He stormed off, Octavius didn’t notice.

 —

“Wow.” Al said, with a little breath at the end. “Wow, I mean-" 

 "What.” Napoleon rolled his eyes and neck, like an actual diva, and faced the taller, way taller, man.

 "Your hair- it’s- different.“ Al said. 

 "Haircut.” Napoleon guestered to his hair. “Obviously.”

 Al and his friends didn’t say anything for a few seconds.

 In that timeframe, Napoleon had a chance to notice things about Al and his friends. 

 Pete was the tallest of all of them.

 Compared to Pete, Leon-  _Napoleon!_ -Napoleon looked like a first grader.

 Another thing he noticed was that one of them, Zeke, was very attractive, and Napoleon already knew that, judging from the amount of girls that chased after him. Napoleon couldn’t blame them, his right eye was a dazzling blue and his left eye was beautiful emerald green. His hair was jet-black, and Napoleon wouldn’t care to admit it, but he kind of liked the way it curled around his eyes.

 Al, on the other hand, was a mess. His skin had dark splotches, presumably dirt or mud. He had perpetual dark eyebags and his hair was probably chock-full of grease.

 Or hair-gel. 

His eyes were brown-ish blue, and Napoleon wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a scar on his forehead. If there really was one, the nickname Scarface worked out just fine.

 He didn’t stop and think about how he got it, though.

 "Y'know, it takes four seconds for a silence to become awkward.“ Al spoke up.

 "It was your turn to speak!” Napoleon exclaimed, flustered by his previous thoughts. 

 "Whoa, hey there,“ Al said, putting his hands out in front of him. "No need to get your knickers in a twist.”

 "I don’t wear knickers!“ Napoleon fumed. "I’m not a girl!" 

 That wasn’t phrased the best way possible. Al and his friends, especially Pete, started doubling over in laughter.

 "I wear… Other things.” Napoleon said, his ears turning red.

 That statement didn’t help at all.

 "Oh- oh  _vous_ -“ Napoleon stopped himself. These imbeciles did not deserve to be referred to using the polite term, ’ _vous_ ’. ” _Tu sais quoi_?“ He stormed off, knowing that Al and his posse didn’t know what he had said at all.

 "Hey- hey wait, Leon!” Al called, his laughing coming to stop. 

_Leon._

 Napoleon reluctantly halted, but didn’t turn around. “What?”

 "You- ya look nice.“ Al said, grinning and half-covering his mouth with his hand. 

 Napoleon didn’t move for a moment, on account of him feeling like someone poured lava on his face. 

He was glad he hadn’t turned around. 

 — 

 "How’s it tastin’?” Jedediah smirked at Amelia.

 Amelia swallowed the malicious goop that was supposedly soup. 

 "Just peachy!“ She said, before taking another sip. 

 Jedediah lightly chuckled. 

"Sac, your plan is so dumb that it’s genius." 

 "Thank you, Jedediah.”

 — 

 Octavius was sitting with Lancelot and his friends, because he didn’t want to see Amelia vomit all over the floor.

 Personally, Octavius didn’t see why they could just make fake vomit. 

 "Oh, hey Abe!“ Octavius said. 

"I didn’t know you were friends with Lancelot." 

 "I’m just about his only!” Abraham smiled.

 Octavius cleared his throat.

 "And you of course, 'Tavius.“ Abraham said. "Couldn’t forget you.”

 "So uh, what do you guys do?“ Octavius asked. 

 "Well, Lancelot mostly talks about Guinevere." 

 "Guinevere? Who’s she?” Octavius asked, getting a sinking feeling in his stomach. 

 "Ah, she’s the sweetest rose of them all,“ Lancelot said, dreamily. "She’s recently available since that wretch, Arthur, broke her heart." 

 "I- Are you going to-” Octavius forced the dreaded words out. “Ask her out?”

 "I will, I will, in time.“ Lancelot said, staring at a girl with long blonde hair and cat eyes. 

 Octavius wished he could die. He swore that he could hear a loud crack come from his chest.

 — 

 "Ready?” Amelia nodded, but then put a finger up. “Thought I’m sure I could probably just vomit on my ow-WWW!” 

"What was that?” Sacagawea asked, brushing her knuckles off on her skirt.

 "Ugh…“ Amelia massaged he stomach and turned to look at the person who punched her. "Sac, it isn’t working!”

 "Are ya gonna punch her again?“ Jedediah gleamed. "Maybe I could do it this time?”

 "Oh shut up!“ Amelia said, about to lightly punch him, but cringed when she moved. 

 "No, I think we can safely say that Amelia can be dismissed for the rest of the day.” Sacagawea said. “She has a stomach ache now." 

 "Not exactly internally-” Amelia said. 

 "Aw, I really wanted to punch her!“ Jedediah whined, but the two girls knew he didn’t mean it.

 "Okay, Jedediah.” Sacagawea said, calmly. “We can blame you." 

 — 

Jedediah had History next, with Amelia and Sacagawea. 

 Of course, Amelia wouldn’t turn up. 

 On the way there, Jedediah ran in to Octavius.

 Like, literally, ran in to him. 

 "Jeez, watch where you’re goin’-” Jedediah cut himself off when he realized it was Octavius. “Oct?" 

 Octavius flinched a little, when he heard Jedediah’s familiar dialect. 

 "I- sorry about that,” With that, Octavius continued to push through the crowded halls.

_What’s up with him?_

 — 

 "Where’s Amelia?“ Ms. Hutman asked. "She was here this morning.”

 "Oh yes.“ Sacagawea answered. "She got a sore stomach, on account of getting elbowed in the stomach." 

 Okay, so she  _might’ve_ stretched the truth. 

 "By who?” Ms. Hutman tilted her head to the side, acting as if she was very interested.

 "Jedediah, Miss.“ Sacagawea said, nodding to Jedediah politely. 

 Jedediah’s eyes grew wide and sputtered an apology.

 His face was a bit red, due to the whole class focusing on him.

 Sacagawea would treasure that face for an eternity to come. 

 "It was an accident, ma'am.” Jedediah said, quietly, looking down.

 "Well. We are still having the test,“ Ms. Hutman said. "Amelia will have hers next time." 

 She eyed Jedediah and Sacagawea suspiciously.

 "Do not turn the papers over until I say so." 

 As Ms. Hutman handed the test out, Jedediah glared at Sacagawea. 

 This made the ends of her lips curve upwards.

 Jedediah mouthed, ’ _traitor_ ’. 

 This made Sacagawea laugh. 

It also made Teddy flash his own glare at Jedediah.

 Jedediah quickly turned his head around and listened to his teacher.

 —

 After school, Jedediah didn’t want to wait for Octavius, even though he did apologize.

 But he did wait. 

Because something seemed a little off with him earlier. 

 "Hey, Oct.” Jedediah greeted. “Where’s- where’s sir idiot?" 

 Octavius cast his gaze toward the sidewalk. ”'Sir idiot’ wasn’t invited today.“ 

This made Jedediah feel warm, but at the same time gross, like his face was sweaty.

 "Why, what happened?” Jedediah asked. 

 "I don’t want to talk about it.“ Octavius replied, sternly. "Come on, let’s just- let’s just go to that joint you were talking about yesterday.”

 "Can’t Kemosabe,“ Jedediah said, curtly. "It’s closed on Fridays; only open on Friday nights." 

 "Oh.”

 "Yeah.“

 A few seconds passed, about three. 

 "Park?” Jedediah asked.

 "We’re too big for the swings,“ Octavius said.

 Ever since they were small, Octavius had always loved the swings. He was devastated when he flipped the swing over and it read ’ _ages 5-12 only_ ’.

"It don’t matter,” Jedediah shrugged. “Just take off yer sweater or somethin’ you don’t weigh much." 

"Hah, alright fine,” Octavius agreed, finally smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> capoleon is actually easy to write lol
> 
> Vous: Polite way of saying 'tu'  
> Tu: You  
> Tu sais quoi: You know what?  
> D'accord: Okay  
> Je deteste toi: I hate you/I detest you


	8. Park Date

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally.
> 
> Well, not really.
> 
> Ahkmenrah wasn’t really looking forward to going home. 
> 
> His home was.
> 
> It was broken. 
> 
> Not that it had ever been ‘un-broken’ or proper before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((tw for divorce mention and stuff near the end))

_"Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind." William Shakespeare_

* * *

 

Octavius and Jedediah sat on the bench, which was right in front of the empty park.

 It was boring.

 Octavius wanted to go on the swings, but he was afraid of breaking them.

 Jedediah wanted to go on the swings but he was sure Octavius would be too scared to go. 

 Way too risky.

 Jedediah, though, was a risk-taker. 

 Octavius admired that about him, and also feared that his over-confidence would be his demise.

 "So, wanna go on the,“ Jedediah motioned towards the creaky swing set.

 "Oh.” Octavius said, eyeing the swing set. He was sure it would crumble to the ground the minute he touched it. “Sure.”

 — 

The first few minutes, Octavius had been getting on and off the swings, fearing that he’d destroy the swing set.

Jedediah, on the other hand, had been hopping off and going back on the swings again and again.

“Jedediah, I swear, you’re going to break your arm!” Octavius had warned.

 Jedediah eventually convinced Octavius to stay on the swings for longer periods of time. 

 They didn’t break. 

 — 

“So,” Octavius started, once he got pretty confident in his weight. “Tomorrow is a weekend.”

 "Yeah, I’m well aware.“ Jedediah replied, rolling his eyes. 

 "Would you like to accompany Lancelot and- I mean, just me, not Lancelot,” Octavius said, correcting himself. He was sure seeing Lancelot would make him burst into tears. Him, being Octavius. “At the mall?" 

 Jedediah was slightly confused. 

Normally, Octavius would love, _just adore_ , having Lancelot around. 

Maybe he was busy that day. 

 "What for?”

“Christmas shopping.” 

"It’s November.”

“I’m well aware.” Octavius grinned, quoting Jedediah. 

 "Who do ya even buy presents for? Lancelot?“ 

 Octavius’ eyes started to wander around the scenery at the mention of Lancelot. 

 "I don’t know,” He replied. “I guess you? And Sac and yeah." 

 Jedediah was surprised to hear his name and not Lancelot’s. 

 "Sorry, can’t.” Jedediah said, boosting himself high in the air. “Am an’ I are doin’ the Pompeii project.”

 Strange, Jedediah never studied unless forced.

 Amelia wouldn’t ever force him, since she was like that as well. 

 Am.

 Amelia. 

Everything suddenly clicked in Octavius’ brain. 

 Jedediah and Amelia were dating; going out. 

 He stopped swinging for a moment. 

 "What’s wrong, Kemosabe?“ Jedediah asked, realizing his friend had stopped. "Ya ain’t gonna fall if that’s what’s worryin’ ya.”

“No, no. It’s not that.”

“Then what?" 

 "It’s nothing." 

 Jedediah couldn’t actually shrug, or else he’d probably loose control of the swings and fall. If he weren’t swinging, he’d have shrugged. 

 Octavius tried to take his mind off it, by continuing to swing. 

 It didn’t work. 

The question was gnawing his brain, he wanted to be able to pry into Jedediah without actually in prying. 

 Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. 

 "Jed, I just have to ask.” Octavius said, interrupting the silence. 

 "Wha-“

"Are you and Amelia dating?”

 "What?“ Jedediah’s eyes did not widen, but he did slightly raise his left brow. 

 "I said, are you and Amelia dating?” Octavius repeated. 

 "I- no. No.“ Jedediah said, shaking his head a bit on instinct. 

He stopped swinging. "Amelia’s- Am- she’s. She’s not." 

 "She’s not what?” Octavius could’ve made that sound nicer. Less demanding, probably. 

“She’s not into guys.” Jedediah said, hesitating a little. “I mean- w-well, at least not entirely." 

 "Oh." 

   _Oh._  

 "Why did you think that, Octy?” Jedediah asked, beginning to swing again. 

 "It’s because- Well. You guys just go on a lot of dates and stuff.“ Octavius said, still not swinging. 

 "Platonic dates,” Jedediah corrected. 

 "What? The great Jedediah knows what platonic means?“ Octavius gasped, pretending to be shocked. 

 "Ah, shut up.”

– Home.

 Finally.

 Well, not really.

 Ahkmenrah wasn’t really looking forward to going home. 

 His home was.

 It was broken. 

Not that it had ever been ‘un-broken’ or proper before. 

 Kahmunrah had told him that the fights had started way before he way born, maybe when Kahmunrah was about 2 or 3. 

 Ahk was born four years after his brother, so that would’ve meant they’d been fighting for sixteen or seventeen years. 

 It was unbearable. 

 They should’ve gotten a divorce, but normally, they made up after. 

 And then they fought again. 

 Ahkmenrah had once asked Kahmunrah if he’d ever kill someone or commit a sin. 

 "Yes.“ His brother had a lisp. It was a bit embarrassing and Ahkmenrah liked to poke fun at it. 

 "Why?" 

 "Because, if I go to the underworld, or Hell as some people call it,” Kahmunrah began. “It wouldn’t be half as bad as this miserable excuse of a home." 

 "Why wouldn’t you rather go to the right place? That would be loads better than here.” Ahkmenrah asked. He was ten.

 "Because, some people believe being with your family is happiness enough.“ Kahmunrah had said, through gritted teeth. "What if they forget to ask my opinion on family? I certainly wouldn’t want this." 

 "Right." 

 Right.

 Ahkmenrah wasn’t sure if Kahmunrah would actually kill someone. 

 He was a sort of bully, sure. But to kill someone would be bad. 

 Like. 

 Like mega-bad. 

 —

 His parents were shouting in their native language, Egyptian.

 Kahmunrah hated it, probably even more than his own brother, mainly because currently, the majority of their arguments were about him.

 That’s right.

 Him. 

Mostly about what college or University he should go to. 

 Kahmunrah actually wanted to major in Music.

And yes, it was dead-end major, he knew that. 

 But it didn’t require reading. 

That was good. 

Well, any reading besides musical notes. 

Those were easy. 

 When Kahmunrah was five, his mother had enrolled him in piano lessons. 

When he was eight, she paid for a violin and a tutor. 

By the age of twelve, he played the piano, violin and the clarinet in his school band. 

When he was fourteen in highschool, he took up the school’s saxophone and clarinet at the same time.

The last instrument he learned to play was the trombone.

He was now eighteen and could play five instruments and he figured he could learn the drums as well. 

 He liked play instruments because people couldn’t and wouldn’t be able to hear his voice. 

 His stupid disgusting voice. 

 That, and he was also pretty good at playing instruments.


	9. Hopeful thoughts and love poems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Napoleon was the only one he wasn’t so sure about.
> 
> Sure, Al liked to poke fun at him, but he would never want to or see him hurt or anything bad like that.
> 
> It wasn’t like they were on the road to being best buds either.
> 
> So Al wasn’t sure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some OCs for Al's friend group

_"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope." Martin Luther King, Jr._

* * *

 

Friends, best friends, crushes, family, Al had all of those.

Zeke, Michael and Jim were his friends. Zeke, Al thought, was an odd name, real uncommon.  
Al and the rest of Zeke’s friends knew that Zeke’s real name was Nickel, or Dime or some sort of Canadian money.

Al had remembered saying that if he was named after money, he would definitely change his name.

Then there was Pete and Sam, not to be confused with Sammie.

Pete and Sam were the best friends a guy like Al could ever ask for.

Pete was pretty much the wildest of the bunch, though he was pretty good at masking that under a layer of ‘toughness’.

“Ladies like the mysterious silent type, right?” He had said.

“If that’s the case, how come they all go after Zeke?” Sam had countered, leaving Pete muttering about looks or something.

Sam was, to put it bluntly, a coward. A complete wimp. Al hated that about him, but there was some sort of charm in it. He wasn’t sure what, but it was there. There were times where he was brave though, and stood up for his friends, and even harder, stood up to.  
Sam was like a younger brother to Al, even though he was sure Sam was like a month older. They had known eachother since grade three, and Pete had only joined in during grade five.

Both of them were the best.

Sure, there were times when they were both just annoying and dumb and stupid and stuff, but Al didn’t pay no mind to that, he still loved them.

But, no. Not like that. Ew. No way. Like, in a platonic way. Y'know, just three friends hanging out.

Doing friend-appropriate things.

Anyway.

Samantha ‘Sammie’ Coughlin was one of the prettiest girls Al had ever laid eyes on.

Not only was she pretty, she was smart. And kind. And the same age as Al. And also, conveniently, was a library helper.

Okay, maybe Al only joined the Library Helpers to be with Sammie, but c'mon, that place is seriously lacking in guys. There were like fifteen library helpers, fourteen of them girls.

Last week, Sammie had actually walked home with Al.

They talked about a lot of things, mostly about Zeke.

Because, y'know.

She was dating Zeke.

Al didn’t let them bother him though, Zeke would probably drop her in a week or so.

Someone even prettier and nicer than Sammie was her sister, Josephine, who was a junior.

Al was sure that some people called her Josephine and others called her Mae.

He wanted to be one of the ones who called her Mae.

Moving on, Al has friends, family, etc.

Then there were not so close people, not so fun to be around people and the ones he wasn’t sure about.

Sacagawea, Teddy and the rest of those disgusting dirt bags fit into the 'not so fun to be around’ category.

Except Amelia and Octavius who were actually okay to be around, after you got over Octavius’ girlyness.

Ivan and Lancelot fell into the 'not so close’ category.

Napoleon was the only one he wasn’t so sure about.

Sure, Al liked to poke fun at him, but he would never want to or see him hurt or anything bad like that.

It wasn’t like they were on the road to being best buds either.

So Al wasn’t sure.

—

_“So uh, I was uh. I was wondering if you were maybe, like, y’know,_ not _… busy. Tomorrow. After school. O-or it could be next week ha. Maybe next month? Not that I’m not busy at some point. Yeah. Um. I- Yeah. Okay. We can work something out. Hah. I-uh.”_ And then the bell would ring.

Ahkmenrah played this scene over and over in his head, about Larry asking him out. 

Which would never happen.

Right?

Right.

…

Maybe…

No. 

Nope, Larry was  _straight._

And so was Ahk.

Supposedly.

—

Green was a disgusting colour.

It was even grosser if it was on the bench.

Especially if you had accidentally touched it.

And it was  _squishy_.

And sticky.

And smelled like today’s lunch.

It was mint gum, yet it smelled like vomit. 

_Gross._

Why the hell would anyone put gum on this bench especially?

For God’s sakes, there was a garbage can right next to it.

“Jed, do you have a tissue?” Octavius asked, looking disgusted. “Or some sort of wipe.”

“Why?” 

“I just touched gum.”

“So?” Jedediah was normally comfortable with touching gross things.

“It was squishy.”

“And?” Jedediah had once accidentally threw a metal spoon away, then fished it out of the  _disgusting_  trash and  _used it_. Without wiping it. It was touching probably billions of trillions of _zillions_ of germs. Uck.

“And it smelled like vomit.”

“Gross!” Jedediah exclaimed. “You smelled it?”

“Oh sure, that’s what you’re grossed out by.” Octavius rolled his eyes.

“That’s nasty.”

“Do you have a tissue or not?” Octavius hissed.

Mrs. O’Malley gave him a glance that made him shut up.

They were supposed to be getting inspiration from nature or whatever. 

Mrs. O’Malley had them writing poems.

Octavius was quite familiar with writing them, it was like his passion.

But he chose an easy form, a sonnet. 

Mainly because sestina wasn’t one of the four choices.

Sonnet, Clerihew, Monorhyme and Limerick.

Jedediah was pretty annoyed that Freeform wasn’t a choice, and Octavius was pretty annoyed that his favourite form wasn’t there.

A Sonnet only went ‘ABAB CDCD EFEF GG’. Pretty plain, if you asked him.

Octavius would much rather be working on his Pompeii assignment with Lancelot.

Lancelot was sitting next to Teddy, who was sitting next to Sacagawea, who was sitting next to Jedediah, who was sitting next to Octavius.

He got up and walked over to Mrs. O’Malley, stealing a glance at what Lancelot was writing.

He couldn’t see it clearly, so he had to fake a question.

“Mrs. O’Malley, can we- Can we choose a different poem, from the four?” Octavius figured he might as well ask.

“No, or that wouldn’t qualify you for the annual Poetry Competition happening in March.” Mrs. O’Malley explained. “Anyone from grade 7 to grade 12 can participate.”

“Like a poetry slam?”

“Yes, except each participant can only enter one poem.” 

“If this is annual, how come I didn’t do it last year, in middle school?” Octavius asked.

“It’s a new thing.” Mrs. O’Malley replied. 

“Oh, um. Thanks.” Octavius slowly walked back, taking the time to just peek over to see just what Lancelot was writing.

_‘By golden hair and green eyes, a smile that shines brighter than fireflies…’_

Octavius knew that Lancelot would be doing any of the poems except a Sonnet.

Lancelot may be all handsome, but he was probably not as good with the words.

Not as bad as Jedediah though, of course.

He silently gasped as he saw the bottom of the page.

_‘With bravery and no fear, lo and behold, Lady Guinevere.’  
_

Octavius hated the new assignment, he hated poetry, he wanted to rip Lancelot’s poetry up. 

_How can there be bravery, if there is no fear?_  Octavius desperately wanted to correct that error, and buy Lancelot a dictionary.

Jedediah wasn’t kidding when he suggested anger management for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> poetry is so hard lol


	10. Optica Dramatica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Octavius felt like a jerk.
> 
> He felt bad.
> 
> Why had he said those things to Jedediah?
> 
> Was he mad at Jedediah or mad at Lancelot?
> 
> No, that was easy.
> 
> It was neither.
> 
> He was mad about Lancelot, not at him. He didn’t even feel like being jealous of Guinevere because it didn’t matter.
> 
> Jedediah probably hated him now and was sewing some sort of voodoo doll of him or something.
> 
> Actually, no.
> 
> Jedediah doesn’t even know how to sew.

_"Every human walks around with a certain kind of sadness. They may not wear it on their sleeves, but it's there if you look deep." Taraji P. Henson_

* * *

 

“Hm, so I was thinking, since I’m not busy today after school, wanna hang out or something?” Jedediah asked, during lunch.

“Uh yeah okay,” Octavius replied, absentmindedly.

Jedediah internally groaned. Octavius was doing that stupid thing he does, staring off in the distance. It was so dumb, and so Octavius, he might as well be dramatically staring off in the distance.

“Did you even hear a word I just said?” Jedediah asked, crossing his arms.

“Nope,” Octavius replied, then turned to face Jedediah. “I’m all ears now.”

Jedediah wanted to angry at Octavius for not listening but then, he smiled, the way he smiled after he faced him, it made Jedediah, along with his dignity, just melt and he hated it.

“I- uh, I’ll just repeat it then, I guess,” Jedediah said, subconsciously brushing his bangs, only for them to fall right back in front of their eyes. “I’m not busy after school-”

Octavius put his hand up, signaling Jedediah to stop.

“Define busy.”

“Like no extracurriculars, no family over…” Jedediah said, moving his hands in a circular motion.

“No homework…?” Octavius asked.

“Okay so maybe I have some homework but-” Jedediah got interrupted again.

“Then do it. I can’t come over anyway.”

“No, you can still come over! A little homework ain’t ever stopped me!” Jedediah said, quickly.

“Jedediah, I said ‘can’t’, not ‘won’t’. There’s a difference.”

“Why? What do you have after school?” Jedediah asked.

“Er… Piano.” Octavius said, instinctively bring his thumb to his mouth. He had this terrible, disgusting even, habit of chewing his nails.

“I know you don’t have piano lessons.” Jedediah said. “You only play the violin.”

“Maybe I decided to take it up.”

“You wouldn’t, you’d be too worried about that- that like, I dunno, it messes up your Language Arts and Social Studies grades or somethin’.” Jedediah replied, defiantly.

“At least my grades are actually higher than a C+.” Octavius muttered just loud enough for Jedediah to hear.

“Quit changin’ the subject, why don’t ya wanna hang out with me? Unless piano’s jus’ a cover up for somethin’ with Lancel-”

“It has nothing to do with Lancelot!” Octavius said, making it quite obvious that it had everything to do with Lancelot.

“Then what’s it gotta do with?”

“Nothing! And even if it was something, you’d probably get mad and overreact or something.” Octavius said, setting his hand down.

“Like you’re not doing that now.” Jedediah replied, narrowing his eyes. “Just tell me. No promises though.”

“No.”

“Tell me.”

“Nope.”

“C'mon Octy please-”

“No, I have piano lessons and that’s that.” Octavius would switch tables, but everywhere else, except Lancelot’s group, was full.

“Octavius,” Jedediah calling Octavius by his full-first name made Octavius glance up at him. It was unusual, after all. “Why are ya lying to me? Fine, I promise I won’t get mad. Maybe a lil bit mad but not full-on rage-”

“Oh my Gods, fine!” Octavius raised his arms over his head. “I need a break from you!”

“… _what_?”

“I need a break from your stupid accent, your dumb hypnotic blue eyes, your stupid soft hair, your moronic, kinda sometimes helpful, advice, everything!”

A few kids on the endside of their table, like Sacagawea, Teddy, Amelia, Larry and Ahkmenrah got up and left, probably to sit with Lancelot’s group.

“I- ya don’t like my accent?” Jedediah asked, feeling like his whole world had come crashing down.

“I hate how you connect words that don’t need connecting!” Octavius lied. He actually found it quite charming.

“Alright fine. I’m gonna- _going to_ \- just do my homework.” Jedediah enunciated.

—

Octavius felt like a jerk.

He felt bad.

Why had he said those things to Jedediah?

Was he mad at Jedediah or mad at Lancelot?

No, that was easy.

It was neither.

He was mad about Lancelot, not at him. He didn’t even feel like being jealous of Guinevere because it didn’t matter.

Jedediah probably hated him now and was sewing some sort of voodoo doll of him or something.

Actually, no.

Jedediah doesn’t even know how to sew.

Not that it mattered, he hated Octavius now and Octavius hated himself for it.

He’d taken his anger out on Jedediah.

Jedediah, for Godsakes.

His friend.

Probably his best friend.

Ugh.

Guilt sucked.

But Octavius deserved it.

Because he was a jerk.

He is a jerk.

—

“Optica, Dramatica.” Amelia randomly blurted out.

“What?” Sacagawea was used to Octavius or William blurting out something, but not Amelia.

All of Amelia’s sentences were very well put together, as if she had rehearsed them a million times before or as if she could freeze time just to form the perfect sentence.

“Oh, it sort of just popped in my head.” Amelia shrugged.

She then nodded towards Jedediah and Octavius, who were arguing about something or other.

“I think it describes their situation quite well.”

“How so?”

Amelia sighed, a terribly long sigh, as if it were completely obvious and anyone with half a brain would know.

But Sacagawea didn’t have half a brain.

She had a whole brain, just like everyone else at their table, who didn’t get it.

So maybe it was Amelia that had half a brain.

That was, after all, why Sacagawea was tutoring her.

“Optica,” Amelia said, slowly. “Eyes. Optics. Optical illusions. Optometrist. Optimistic.”

“Optica is part of the NOS disorder and Optimistic has n-” Larry had decided to join in on their little conversation, but got interrupted.

“Dramatica.” Amelia continued. “Dramatic. Exhibit A.” She pointed her index finger at Jedediah and Octavius.

“Don’t think that’s a wo-”

“Hush, Derek!” Amelia put her finger to her lips. “I’m speaking. When a genius speaks, her words must be heard.”

“Larry’s words should be heard then.” Ahkmenrah said, giving off a friendly, smug grin.

“Larry?” Amelia raised a brow. “Who’s Larry?”

“I’m Larry.”

“No, you’re Derek.” Amelia said, a confused smile forming on her face.

“No, I’m Larry.” The confused smile grew larger. “My last name is Daley.”

“OHHHHH.” Amelia smiled and laughed. “Daley and Derek are just so similar.”

“Uh. Yeah okay.”

“Anyway. Optica Dramatica would roughly translate to Eye Dramatic, meaning,” Amelia cleared her throat. “WE. SEE. DRAMATICS.”

“What language are you even speaking?” Teddy asked.

“Why, English of course.”

“No, I meant what language is Optica Dramatica from?” Teddy asked again.

“Latin.” Amelia answered, simply.

“I-I don’t think-” Ahkmenrah cut himself off.

“It’s Latin until proven otherwise.” Amelia proudly stated.

“I have Google Translate.” Larry offered.

He started typing on his phone and then raised his head. “Optical Dramatic? I think they just add an A to the end of everything. So basically, not a recognized word.”

“Just like Google Translate isn’t a liable doohickey to check!” Amelia sputtered.

“Octavius would know for sure.” Teddy piped in.

“Fine, whatever, we’ll ask the italian latin genius or something.” Amelia sighed. “Then you’ll see.”

“Your confidence will be your demise.” Sacagawea said, smiling.

“That’s the plan.” Amelia grinned back. “Now, what were we talking about?”

“Uh, oh I don’t know.” Larry shrugged, not wanting to get in a debate about which words are real and which aren’t.

Within seconds, Amelia had already started a new topic about whether or not humans should have evolved with wings.

“Optica Dramatica,” Sacagawea hummed silently.

—

There, he did it again.

Larry always did this when he was deep in thought, or was working.

He slightly bit his lip and then swiped his tongue over them.

It always made Ahkmenrah uneasy, but the good kind of uneasy.

The setting was Math Class, and Mr. Fredericks had just given them a worksheet about exponents or square roots or something, Ahkmenrah wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t paying attention, since Larry was in his class.

How could he had not noticed him there before?

Oh yeah. Right.

Ahkmenrah was in the advanced math class, and Larry had recently been 'promoted’ there. He seemed to enjoy a good math question or challenge, but he could never memorize Pi.

Not that it really mattered anyway.

3.141592653589… Or something like that.

Ahkmenrah was just about to get started when-

Oh Gods.

He just did it again.

The way his tongue just peeped out of lips and then immediately and quickly sprang out, swiping over Daley’s- Larry’s- then chapped lips was just too distracting, and of course Ahkmenrah dropped his pencil.

It was utterly silent so everyone could here the small thin orange piece of wood fall on the ground with a small _thud_ , threatening to disturb Larry.

Thankfully, it didn’t.

Ahkmenrah gave himself a mental pep talk to stop looking at Larry and start working.

But then.

He bit his lip.

—

Green glass was normally unusual, but not in Al’s house.

It was actually almost always everywhere, covering the floor, the counters, and tables.

The glass, if investigated closely, would smell of alcohol.

Al’s parents, Mrs. And Mr. Capone, would always throw parties, at least thrice a week.

Al used to look forward to them and enjoy them, since the Coughlins were always invited, but lately, Josephi- Mae, and Sammie always stay home.

When asked why, Sammie claimed the smell of the cigars and alcohol made her ill.

Al started to worry that maybe he smelled like smoke and alcohol, so he started wearing cologne.

Not perfume. Perfume was for girls.

Cologne was for men. Well, only the ones who possibly smell like something their- their friend wouldn’t like.

Then there was another problem.

—

Napoleon walked briskly past Zeke, Pete, Jim, Michael and Sam. He stopped right when he passed Al.

Something seemed off about him.

His presence normally felt a bit more… Edgier? Spicy-er? Jutting?

Napoleon absolutely did not lean in a bit to sniff him, but his assumptions were correct.

He was wearing some sort of cologne.

For who?

Sammie Coughlin, probably.

The very thought of Al trying to impress that girl made Napoleon just want to, well, squeeze her head until her brain popped out.

But maybe it wasn’t for her. Maybe he didn’t have time to shower? He did shower, right?

Leon sighed and then continued walking, trying not to let possibilities cloud his mind.

Al used to smell like laundry, and like fireplaces or an bonfire.

Now, he smelled like sharp, tingy alcohol. Biting even. Al always smelled like alcohol but now it was even stronger. Ugh.

If he was being completely honest, Leon liked the old smell better.

He had Science right now, with Amelia, Al and that one weird kid.

Irving? John?

Ivan, yeah, right.

He was foreign but he wasn’t new. He had been in the same school as Napoleon and everyone else since grade three. That time, he was new.

—

_“This is Ivan.” Mrs. Tamilily said. “What’s one of your hobbi- something you like to do?”_

_“I play with the ants.” Ivan said, then paused. The next part he said, sounded weird and foreign, because he was weird. And also foreign. And new. And strange._

_He said something that sounded like 'oovelichit nexticklaw’ which made everyone in the class go what?_

_Except for Ahkmenrah who of course immediately knew what it meant since he was pretty much fluent in almost all languages._

_“Ivan likes to burn ants with magnifying glasses!” Ahkmenrah screeched._

_Anyone who didn’t know better would think that Ahkmenrah was scared of him or terrified or something, but really, Ahkmenrah had just found his new best friend._

—

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> optica dramatica literally means Optical Dramatic


End file.
